Gardeners chatting yesterday more than most days. A yellow mask. A blue. A cherry blossom and Robin covered one. Kombucha. Peppers. Birds and onions.
“Now, about sourdough starters…” she said.
“Would you like some?” I offered.
She pointed to her plot, we coordinated a time (ish.) I fed my starter and put hers into a washed old peanut butter jar.
The dew this morning is so thick it reaches to the sky. I hope she finds the jar with the note still dry enough to read.